The crack of another rifle shot sounded from the cabin porch. The knife-wielding guard’s head twisted wildly as if struck by massive fist. Blood spurting, the guard spun uncontrollably to the ground, where his body fell with a resounding thump, arms splayed.
Kyle and Ariel turned to the cabin porch where Raoul slowly rose, squinted at the carnage, and lowered his rifle. Moving quickly down the steps, he trotted toward them. Reaching lake’s edge, Raoul looked at Kyle and Ariel. “You both okay?”
“Hell of a shot to the elbow,” Kyle said.
Raoul grunted in agreement, staring at the gore. “It’s nice to have some luck every now and then.” He crouched beside the two dead guards and looked closely at the bodies. Raoul took the knife from the dead guard’s hand and removed the sheath from the man’s belt. Slipping the knife blade into the sheath, he tossed it to Ariel. “It might come in handy.”
Raoul again surveyed the dead. “Hank’s not gonna be very happy about this. I shot and killed a couple of his best men.” He looked up at Kyle, then shook his head in disgust.
“Why keep Morris alive up here?” Kyle asked, as little was making sense to him. “They just as easily could have killed him.”
“Maybe they needed him alive for something,” Raoul said with a shrug.
“For what?” Kyle asked. “The jihadis already have the freaking bomb and the president. Why would Benedict need to hide Morris?” he asked, his voice trailing off. “Unless … where’s Morris?” he asked, urgency creeping into his voice.
Raoul stood and pointed to the porch. “Right there.”
As they turned to look, Morris stepped from the dark interior behind the front door and into the morning light. He stared for a moment, then stepped off the porch and strode down the narrow path to the lake.
“We need to talk.” Kyle said, as Morris came close.
“There’s no time for that,” Raoul said.
“Yes there is,” Kyle barked. Raoul stood and narrowed his eyes at Kyle, who turned to Morris. “Why did you build it?”
Morris grimaced and shook his head. “I had no choice. They have Jennifer.”
“Who’s Jennifer?” Ariel asked.
Morris jerked his head toward her. “My daughter,” he said. “My only child. She’s all I have left.” Morris clenched his jaw, his eyes glistening with hate. “They took her and brainwashed her.”
“So you made a nuclear bomb for them?” Kyle asked.
Morris nodded. “One day after Jennifer had disappeared from the al-Salam mosque along with the jihadis, Hank Benedict and couple of his Atlas Global showed up. “They said they were in contact with the jihadis and had been tracking them. They said they could free Jennifer and bring her back to me. But first I had to make something to bargain for her release.”
“Hank Benedict?”
Morris nodded again. “Benedict said I should make bomb for them. A nuke.”
“And you did?” Kyle asked.
“It was the only way they would release her,” Morris said.
“And you believed them?” Raoul said.
“I told Benedict what I needed. The C4 was the main thing. Then I got a tiny piece of enriched uranium and a BB sized piece of plutonium.”
“Why didn’t you go to the authorities?” Kyle asked.
“I couldn’t!” Morris said, his voice rising. “Hank warned me that if I told anyone, the jihadis would execute her while I watched.” Morris’s glistening eyes searched their faces. “You have to believe me.”
“We believe you,” Kyle said, trying to sound sympathetic.
“The jihadis have already killed Congressman Divine and Senator Blount,” Raoul said to Morris. “They have President Harris and they’re holding him hostage with your nuclear bomb!”
“I was afraid something like that might happen,” Morris said.
“But you still gave them a bomb anyway?” Raoul asked, almost shouting.
Morris stared wide-eyed at the bodies of the two guards who only minutes earlier had held him captive. “It’s worthless,” he said softly.
“What? What do you mean?” Kyle asked.
“The bomb,” Morris said, his eyes darting from face to face. “It won’t work without me.”
“What are you talking about?” Raoul asked.
“A safety device. I built the bomb with a safety mechanism,” Morris said, again staring at the bodies.
“What kind of safety mechanism?” Kyle asked.
“Biometrics.”
“Your finger prints?” Raoul asked.
Morris shook his head, no. “Iris recognition technology. It’s common technology. Easy to incorporate into a bomb. Without me, no one can initiate the detonation sequence.”
“Iris scan? How does that work?” Kyle asked.
“The detonation sequence is launched by an I-phone signal. It uses a scan of my iris, which is unique to me, of course, to authenticate me as the authorized user of the phone. It’s like a log-in. Once it recognizes me, then it will work. Then all I need to do is launch the sequence.”
“But it’s radioactive!” Raoul said. “It’s got nuclear materials!”
“Nothing is failsafe,” Kyle said.
“I know,” Morris said. “But I built it. I know how it works and won’t work.”
“How in God’s name did you get nuclear material out of the lab?” Kyle asked. “There’s got to be cameras and radiation detectors all over the place.”
Morris nodded gravely. “That’s the perception,” he said. “But perceptions are not reality. If you know what you’re doing, it’s easier than you think.”
“In order to make a nuclear bomb, you need a lot of fissionable material,” Kyle said.
Morris shook his head slowly. “Think of it like a dirty bomb. It has radioactive material, but it’s a conventional bomb. It scatters microscopic nuclear debris around when it’s detonated.”
“If it’s detonated,” Raoul said.
“Exactly,” Morris said.
The four searched each other’s faces.
“Maybe we can get the president out of there after all,” Kyle said.
Raoul nodded. “They think they have a bomb, but they don’t.”
“Well, yes and no,” Ariel said. “The bomb is still there, even though it won’t work without Morris, who is here with us.”
“They’re vulnerable and they don’t know it,” Raoul said, as a wry smile came to his face.
“So if the bomb won’t work without him,” Kyle said, “then why was Atlas Global hiding Morris up here?”
Ariel squinted and said, “Because they’re part of it?”
“That’s right,” Morris said. “They grabbed me after I had made the bomb and handed it over to the jihadis. Atlas Global booby-trapped my house.”
“That means Hank and the boys are the ones who nearly killed us,” Kyle said to Raoul.
“Does Atlas know about the safety mechanism?” Raoul asked.
“I never told them anything about it,” Morris said. “I just handed it over to them and showed them the application to launch the detonation countdown .”
“So, Hank Benedict doesn’t know that the bomb is rigged for your eyes only?” Kyle asked.
Morris shook his head, no.
“The key is the jihadis think they have a live bomb, but don’t!” Raoul said.
“But Hank Benedict must know the bomb won’t work without Morris,” Kyle said. “It’s why he’s been holding off on a rescue of the president. It’s also why he’s been hiding Morris up here.”
“It doesn’t matter, now that we’ve got Morris,” Raoul said.
“And, the jihadis have your daughter,” Ariel said to Morris. “That won’t change, bomb or no bomb.”
Morris nodded. “I want my daughter back.”
“Let�
�s go get her and the president,” Raoul said.
Chapter 32
Hank Benedict sat at his desk and stared outside, lost in thought, as the sun baked the sprawling compound of the Atlas Global headquarters and training facility. He remembered when the land where he now sat was nothing but a field of sparse, wild grass and pale green chamisa bushes. He’d designed the Atlas headquarters like a forward operating base, with runways, landing pads, barracks, classrooms, and a gun range. State of the art. It felt impregnable. Now he and his father were on the precipice of achieving their greatest victory. Except for a couple of loose ends.
Fucking Raoul Garcia and his journalist cousin, that guy Kyle Dawson. Damned liberal media SOB. He didn’t trust either one of them. Raoul was a talented man, one of the best at what he did, including Hank himself. And Hank considered himself at the top. Raoul knew Atlas Global operations well, but he didn’t know everything—just enough to screw it all up. And Raoul had been out of touch for more than 24 hours. Where the fuck is he? No phone, no GPS. Nothing. That familiar queasy feeling returned to Hank’s stomach.
Was Raoul with that Dawson bastard? That could be trouble. And where was Ariel? Jerome’s ex-wife, his widow. Not that it mattered. She was beautiful, but she was a masseuse. If she was gone, that’d be all right. It meant less for him to worry about. And, she could be easily replaced.
Hank refocused on the bank of video screens covering the wall. One was filled with the scowling mug of his father, David Benedict. He had watched his father age over the years, his father’s once-chiseled face sag, the cheeks becoming jowls, his forehead creased, his eyelids droop, making him look like a grizzled Shar-Pei. And the eyes, once bright and determined, were now weary and wary.
On a larger screen was Vice President Marvin in the White House situation room with the CIA’s Sidow, the FBI’s Huntington, and Dempsey of the Secret Service. Hank knew these men could be trusted—as long as they were kept in check.
“This has to be quick,” Marvin said, his voice breaking over the speakers. “I don’t want to get into a lot of useless talk and speculation. So, Hank, you’re on ground there. What’s the latest?”
“The situation has not changed substantially since the jihadis issued their demands yesterday,” Hank said.
“We can’t just sit idly by and let them detonate a bomb and kill the president,” said Dempsey, waving his hands, his voice anxious and irate.
“What would you have us do?” Marvin shouted, lifting his hands high. “Storm the place? We’ve already ruled that out. They’d certainly kill Harris then.”
“It’s better than sitting on our hands,” injected Huntington. “Inaction is disgraceful.”
Sidow cleared his throat. “Since when do we grant situational control to a private security company, especially when it comes to the American president?”
“Since they’re the ones who are on the ground and they’re the ones who know what they’re doing,” Marvin said. “That’s worth a hell of a lot more than all of your damned satellite surveillance and drones and your boys in gray suits.”
“President Harris is the one who got himself in this mess,” intoned David Benedict, his baritone voice booming. “It was none of our doing.”
“Okay, gentlemen,” said Marvin, clearing his throat, placing his hands on the table. “Let’s keep looking for a solution. It’s going on nine a.m. here. We still have time today. Let’s meet again in two hours with the full security council.”
As the video screens went blank, Hank Benedict’s phone rang. He looked at it, tapped the screen, and answered, “What’s up?” The phone screen showed an Atlas Global agent in a tight t-shirt who moved leaned in close, his face filling it. “Eagle’s Nest has gone dark.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Dark,” the agent said. “Lights out. No response.”
“Shit,” Hank said. “Where’s Morris?”
“We don’t know,” the agent said. “It could just be a technical problem.”
“Or worse,” Hank said. “Send a drone up there. We need to know what happened.”
“You got it,” the agent said. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I know something.”
The screen went blank. Hank slammed the table and the knot in his guts tightened. He didn’t need this. God-damned Raoul. Was it was him? Did he have Morris? If so, then what? “Damn!” he shouted, slamming the table again. He closed his eyes for a moment to focus. Tariq still had the bomb and President Harris. Nothing had changed that. And nothing would. He clenched his jaw and ground his teeth, his stomach burning, his breath short, sweat beading on his forehead.
Hank picked up his phone, flicked a finger to scroll through the screen, then tapped the screen to dial another number.
“What is it?” his father asked as he immediately answered his phone.
“Morris is missing,” Hank said.
“How did that happen?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“He can disrupt everything,” his father said, stating the obvious.
“I have a drone in the air now,” Hank said. “If Morris is alive, we’ll find him.”
“You must. We can’t hold off these government agencies much longer.”
“Maybe we can get Tariq to move sooner than later,” Hank said.
“It might be too obvious,” the elder Benedict said. “Just find Morris, Hank. Kill him if we have to. We’re almost there.”
The screen went blank.
***
Raoul hustled down the mountain and along the winding trail through the forest, almost at a trot, passing through the mottled shadows cast by the warming sun, now high in the eastern sky. He was trailed by Morris, Ariel, and Kyle, each ten feet behind the other. Raoul stopped suddenly and held up a fist. “Wait. Do you hear that?”
They stumbled to a stop and paused to listen, the sound of their heavy breath mingling with the soft hush of the wind in the pines. Overhead was the faint buzz of a drone.
“Drone!” Raoul said.” Quick! Scatter! Hide behind a tree. It will block the infra-red sensor from detecting your body heat.”
They jumped off the path and scrambled through the underbrush, each crouching behind a tree. The sound of the drone drew louder as it passed overhead, following the path they had just descended down the mountain. The drone then turned and circled in a large loop, passing overhead again, floating.
“Don’t move,” Raoul said in a loud whisper.
The drone reversed direction again and seemed to fly away, heading up the mountain, the sound fading. Raoul exhaled slowly, sensing they’d escaped detection. But then the drone returned, flying just above the treetops, floating over the trail.
“Stay in place,” Raoul ordered. “Don’t move.”
After a long moment, drone turned again, a silver bird of prey against the sunlit mountains, flying again over the twisting path they’d followed.
Raoul sat with his back against a tree, his breath short and shallow. “Damn!” he muttered, envisioning the wall of screens inside the Atlas Global command center. He knew what the Atlas Global agents were looking for. The drones carried high definition video lenses and infra-red cameras. They could detect the body heat of squirrels scampering up a tree and zoom in with video and watch the damned critters eat an acorn. “Damn,” Raoul cursed again, sweat dripping down his forehead and into his eyes. He brushed a sleeve against his face. The drone may have detected their body heat, but unless they were standing fully upright on the path, the heat could be anything: deer, bear, skunk. Whatever. Raoul knew they’d need all the luck they had if they were to make it out alive.
They sat in place for another few minutes until Raoul felt confident the drone was gone. It had seen what it had seen. He knew the Atlas Global agents would review and analyze the data and images. But it would take time, then still more time for Atlas Global to re
spond. It was time they needed badly.
“Let’s move,” Raoul said, pushing himself up. He again checked the sky as he and the others stepped back onto the path. He heard and saw nothing. “Hopefully, they won’t know if what they were seeing were animals or humans.”
“If they know it’s us, we’re screwed,” Kyle said.
“Do you think?” Ariel said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.
“We need a place to hide,” Morris said. “Those things have highly calibrated heat sensors.”
“I’m well aware,” Raoul said.
“There’s a cave further down,” Ariel said, “It’s only a mile or so from the ranch headquarters. It’s a good place to hide.”
“Exactly what we need,” Raoul said. Maybe Lady Luck was on their side.
***
“Run the video again,” Hank Benedict barked to the command center agent, anxiety in his voice. The screen revealed nothing obvious to the naked eye except sunlight igniting the waving bows of the pines and deep shadows.
“Damn,” Hank muttered. He knew Raoul was fully aware of the command center’s capabilities and knew how to evade detection. “Switch to infra-red.”
The agent fingered the keyboard and the screen revealed portions of four indistinct, but ghostly figures walking along a path. The figures stopped, looked up, then disappeared behind trees.
Hank’s heart leapt. His lips spread into a thin smile. “Sorry, Raoul. You can run, but you can’t hide,” he muttered, almost speaking to himself. He turned to one of the command center agents. “What did you find at the cabin?”
“Two bodies,” the operator said. “They’re already cold.”
“Shit!” Hank shouted, clenching his teeth as he balled his fists. “Jones and MacIntosh. Two of my best men.” He exhaled noisily through clenched teeth, and closed his eyes tightly. “Raoul, you’re a dead man walking.”
***
Raoul, Morris, Ariel, and Kyle crouched in the shallow cave. It was a short scramble up the side of the mountain to the cave’s opening, which was apparent only when they were directly in front of it. The opening was just three feet high at its widest point, and shaped like a small, open mouth, as if the mountain were about to speak. Inside, the cave opened wide and was high enough for them to stand upright, and deep enough for them to avoid detection by a drone if they kept themselves back from the mouth of the cave.
Enemy of the People Page 21
